Minerva's Loyalty
by McGonagall's Bola
Summary: What might have convinced our Minerva not to stop fighting, even when giving into the exhaustion and dark seems the easiest... HG/MM -REWRITTEN!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Her chocolate colored eyes immediately caught the image upon turning at Poppy's scream, "Minerva!"

The woman in question appeared to be holding onto the very last threads of life, as she lay there pale and motionless upon the stone beneath, a gash across her cheek, robes ripped, showing more gruesome looking injuries she might have endured today in battle or earlier while defending what she thought to be right.

She must have fought very hard to save that what Dumbledore had left her to do. Until then, Hermione too had had difficulties seeing why no one else but Harry, Ron and she herself had been entrusted with the task to take Voldemort down and had gotten the necessary instructions and knowledge to succeed. Seeing that not all Order members were as loyal, like Mundungus, she certainly got his decision on one level.

On another, she never would be able to see why Dumbledore had left the finishing off of Voldemort only to three barely off-age pupils, without sharing anything of what he might have assumed or uncovered to anyone else of the Order. Why hadn't Dumbledore chosen to trust anyone else with more experience, like Minerva McGonagall, who had never showed any more loyalty to him than anyone? Why hadn't he chosen to confide in her, or Remus, or…?

Dumbledore and his Deputy appeared to have been so unbelievably close to each other, with both of them fighting for the same and setting the same values. The one time Hermione had experienced the otherwise rather emotionless Minerva McGonagall in tears was when she heard about the death of her best companion. She hadn't had the strength to give in to her grief at the funeral anymore.

If there was one witch who could be called loyal, it certainly would be Minerva McGonagall. Hermione now realized it had never been a case of not having trusted her, but having trusted upon that loyalty for her to keep Hogwarts running and safe. Without her, Hogwarts possibly wouldn't have existed anymore by this time. The many other professors and pupils never would have lasted as long. Hermione could vividly imagine her talking in upon the others not to give up, though nearly surely in her own little way.

The sad smile that had come over her features upon the imagination immediately disappeared upon focusing on her former Head of House again. The many injuries sustained showed how necessary she had actually been in this battle. She could not let this woman die. She now would need others to talk in on her as well, to tell her not to give up.

Hermione thus ran forward and sank down on her knees by her former Transfiguration Professor, who had collapsed under her lot of injuries and was still barely conscious, while Poppy still hopelessly tried to heal as many of them as possible and fast. Hermione carefully took her hand, internally wincing at the cold and clamminess that had taken over the elder woman's body. True, Professor McGonagall had never been easy-going, but without her Hogwarts wouldn't have lasted a couple of days after Dumbledore.

"Minerva!" Hermione shrieked, using the professor's first name for the very first time. She never would have guessed it would be in this situation, though. She easily leaned over so as not to force Minerva to turn aside her head to be able to look at her former pupil. The teal green eyes that belonged to the elder woman were wan and no longer showed any sign of life. It was then obvious that the lights would leave her eyes soon, never to show any emotion the elder lady might have ever felt again. Minerva's eyes fluttered, but Hermione immediately squeezed her hand. "Don't," Hermione ordered. "Hold on."

Hermione, and Poppy momentarily shared a look of worry. Hermione didn't fail to notice Ron coming up behind her even though occupied and his warm hand on her shoulder. She immediately shrugged it off, as Harry joined them, then shot him a rather upset look. "Please…" Hermione begged, turning to McGonagall once again. Hermione carefully leaned down to touch their foreheads together, and she just let her tears fall. "I know that you're tired, but you cannot give up after all you have done for this school… for us."

Minerva tried to speak; tell her that she had only succeeded in making Alecto and Amycus angrier, even though taking the rage and beatings from both Death Eaters might have saved some pupils from getting hurt instead. Hermione quietly leaned down to let her lips touch the much older woman's, to keep her from talking. "He hasn't doubted your loyalty," Hermione said, aware that that thought would have driven Minerva insane at night, for it sometimes haunted her, too. "He has trusted on it, to keep Hogwarts safe under your guard. As usual, Albus was right." These words might have been the ones she had sought after once she had known about that what Albus had entrusted them with, but never her.

Hermione's eyes carefully slid over the much older woman's body, noting the too many injuries. Some appeared much older than today, even then ranging widely. Some appeared scars of months earlier, others of earlier that particular month or week. More tears welled up in Hermione's eyes. She must have endured a lot to keep Albus' Hogwarts safe.

As Minerva's eyes batted, a tear slid down her cheek to mingle with the many of Hermione. _Of course._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Minerva?" Hermione questioned, sitting down onto the edge of the Animagus' hospital bed. She carefully gathered the elder professor's hand within both of her own, momentarily shocked at the coldness of the touch. She quietly rubbed Minerva's hand between her own for a bit to warm it, then reached over to take its twin, which rested upon the sheet and repeated what she'd done to the other hand to this one.

She then carefully held both of the elder witch's hands in her warmer ones, eyeing the pallor of the face that had never looked any older than then. Bruises under the shut teal green eyes, now that the Glamor Charm had been lifted, showed the lack of sleep the professor must have had over the months while doing all in her power to keep the pupils and Hogwarts safe even with Snape reigning and two Death Eaters misusing their power in professor positions. Snape might have been on their side in the end, but it did matter little to change the fact that Hogwarts had no longer been so safe and peaceful as it once maybe might have been. It did little to change the fact that Minerva McGonagall had aged at least ten years in the period of one – especially emotionally. What with having lost her best companion and never even having had time to grieve. There had only been time to fight…

Minerva's pale red lips were lightly parted, Hermione's eyes caught upon eyeing the elder witch more carefully. Hermione sighed. Poppy had taken her wounded Head of Gryffindor House over to St. Mungo's immediately once she had gotten to stabilize her. Some other survivors with more serious injuries had been taken there afterward as well, while others had been patched up by the Matron with the little of means available after the better piece of the infirmary had been blown away as well in battle. Hogwarts had overall been turned into a ruin of what it once had been prior to the existence of the selfish, power obsessed Tom Riddle. Prior to the decease of the best Headmaster Hogwarts had known: Albus Dumbledore. Hermione momentarily smiled. Once Minerva was on her feet again, and once Hogwarts had been rebuilt, Minerva McGonagall too would be a wonderful Headmistress. Dumbledore would meet his match. With all the rumors flying about concerning the both of them, maybe the Headmaster and his Deputy had already met their match within one another personally as well. Hermione somehow couldn't actually believe that more ever had existed between the woman in the bed and the deceased Headmaster but companionship, although she never would deny the depth that must have founded it. She would possibly never know, nor the reason of their powerful foundation.

Sadness immediately overtook Hermione's features again upon seeing the elder witch lie there so brokenly and weak. It would be a while until Minerva was on her feet again and well enough to lead her life again, let alone a school. She had lived through three Wizarding Wars, having fought in all. She had lost a lot and many. She had had to endure so much… Hermione intuitively knew that although not many scars were any longer visible on the surface of the milky white skin, innumerable must lay beyond, within the elder woman's heart and soul. She would have to carry them for the rest of her life – possibly alone, for Hermione seriously doubted Minerva ever had confided in anyone else. Maybe Dumbledore… He wasn't there anymore, though. He couldn't aid her in carrying her burden anymore.

She had been there for two days now without having woken, while the ones that had been lesser injured had aided Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout – who both had taken charge of everything with Minerva no longer there to do it – in reconciling the living with their families and informing the loved ones of the fallen… It hadn't been easy to do, but it had had to happen eventually either way.

In between helping to arrange the funerals of the Order of the Phoenix members that had fallen in the battle, like Remus and Tonks, Hermione hadn't forgotten about her old Transfiguration Professor. Minerva McGonagall had often been her light, even though it might have been unconsciously, when showing the strength and bravery she merely hoped to once possess. She now sought it again, but couldn't find it.

Tears threatened to roll rapidly down her cheeks, and she intuitively sniffled to keep them at bay. She slowly bowed her head when she no longer had any power left to hide the tears and cried. The war might have been over and won, but the scars would remain forever, and she quietly wondered if ever there would be something like happiness again. Minerva obviously had been able to fight and obtain it twice earlier. She really wished she could do the same…

"…'Mione?"

Hermione immediately raised her tear streaked face to look into the teal green eyes of Minerva McGonagall. "You've awoken," she said, somewhat incredulously.

"I have," Minerva said, unable to show even the ghost of a smile. She groaned when she tried to resettle on the bed and immediately fell back in the pillows, too weak to move more.

"You're in pain," Hermione said. "I should get the nurse."

"No. Please," Minerva began, interrupting herself with a rather loud wince when she hopelessly tried to move her leg. Hermione eyed her only more worriedly than earlier, seeing the pain vividly reflected in the green of the elder Gryffindor's eyes. "Please, give me… a couple of minutes. I'm not quite ready to be poked everywhere yet."

Hermione chuckled, louder than she actually had in months, at the wit of the older woman she had so missed. She then laid her head down on the other woman's shoulder, uneasily pulling her in what must have been an embrace. "I'm so happy you're awake," Hermione uttered and began sobbing once again. "I don't know what I would have done had I lost you, too…" Minerva winced again, muffling the sound by biting down on her lip, as she slowly pulled one arm around the younger Gryffindor's shaking frame.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said. It wasn't as if she even could upon getting the chance either way…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Ron, get off! Please!" Hermione cried, immediately pushing him away as he again tried to kiss her. "I don't love you that way!" She shouted, hoping that she would finally get through to him rather sooner than later. When was Ron finally going to get it? He continually had been touching on the subject of their kiss in the Room of Requirement, at the beginning of the battle. Ever since, he had tried to convince himself and her that their love was mutual. Ever since he had tried to convince her to get into a relationship and begin a life with him. She didn't doubt that he could love her in another way than she actually loved him, but what was the point if she couldn't, and possibly never would either, return it?

"You have bloody damn kissed me!" Ron argued, anger flaring, yet taking Hermione's hand in his once again.

Hermione quietly exhaled. She would have to do this another way. He obviously wasn't listening to her this way. She would have to feign calm and get him to see reason, so that she could go to St. Mungo's and see how their former Head of Gryffindor House was managing. At least with Minerva she felt rather comfortable, even though the lot of misery that had passed. At least with Minerva she no longer felt as if everyone wanted and needed her to act like someone she wasn't.

"Listen, Ron," she began. "This year's been very challenging for all of us. If we hadn't had the opportunity to draw upon each other, neither of us ever would have made it. We all needed the comfort of another every now and then. I won't deny that I'm happy that you and Harry, were there for more when the going got rough, but that doesn't mean that I'm in love with you. I don't feel for you that way," she said, then turned to leave him mouth-open. If he had actually gotten it now or still not, she couldn't really say. She, however, appeared to have dazed him at least.

* * *

Hermione momentarily sniffled and wiped at her tears. She didn't need the other woman's worry. Satisfied with how she unseeingly thought her appearance to be, she carefully pushed the door open, to enter the room to which Professor McGonagall had been moved two days earlier.

McGonagall quietly turned her head in the direction of the doorway, upon hearing the door open and fall shut again. She smiled, upon seeing who her visitor was. Hermione smiled, too. She walked over to the side of the bed and leaned in fleetingly to kiss the other woman's cheek, then settled on the edge of the bed. It had somehow gotten to be their way of saying hello to each other lately.

Minerva's brow quirked upon noticing Hermione's appearance, no matter the younger Gryffindor's tries to hide the evidence that she might have cried. "Hermione, what's the matter?"

"I'm fine, Professor," she replied. "I'm feeling a bit under the weather," she added, seeing Minerva's unconvinced look. Minerva wasn't any more convinced at that, and Hermione could see, but she chose not to give McGonagall a chance to go on about it, easily changing the subject. "So how are you feeling today?" She asked.

"I'm fine," came McGonagall's usual reply. She sighed, then elucidated, "The pain's wearing off. I'll possibly be able to leave this hospital at the end of the week if all continues to go well." She merely hoped to convince Hermione to elucidate more on whatever was the matter with her by offering the same in return.

"That's wonderful news!" Hermione cried.

Minerva nodded, and a silence fell between both women. Minerva eventually was the one who broke it. "Please, Hermione. What's going on?"

Brown fleetingly connected with teal green, and Hermione deeply exhaled. "Ron," she muttered. "He's been… I don't love him the way he and everyone else is expecting me to. I have been trying to tell him, but…"

By then, Hermione was sobbing with the lot of emotions running through of which some she couldn't actually name, but only feel. "Hey," Minerva whispered, reaching for the younger woman's hand, that by now held onto the sheet so tightly her knuckles had become white in color. Minerva carefully pulled at the younger Gryffindor's hand, inviting her in an embrace, which Hermione gratefully accepted.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Tears coursed down Hermione's flushed cheeks, while listening carefully to Harry's speech, directed to the people that were no longer there, but lay motionless in the caskets ahead, in the pathway between the rows of seats. The better half was occupied.

Minerva's hand quietly reached to hold hers and squeezed, saying without words that she wasn't alone in this. Minerva had been released only that morning, but it hadn't kept her from attending the double funeral. It nearly broke her strong Gryffindor heart to look at the little boy in Harry Potter's arms, too young to be aware of the fact that he would have to grow up without his mother and father much like Harry himself.

"…and I really wish I could have told both Remus and Tonks the same, but I can't anymore now. Both of them have fought hard to make the times in which their son was about to grow up better for him. Fighting hard wasn't enough, though. I wish that it had been different, so that little Teddy would grow up in their warm arms. He won't." At that, Molly Weasley's sobbing carried over the whole of the crowd. She herself had lost a son in this war. Harry momentarily eyed the boy in his arms, then continued, "I have made a promise to Remus. I have promised him to take care of his son when the situation required. I wish it hadn't been so soon, but…" At that, his famous green eyes turned to the caskets ahead, and he continued merely in a whisper, "I'll keep to it, Remus." That's the last Harry said, returning to his seat with little Teddy half asleep on his hip. He carefully handed him to Andromeda, before sitting down beside Ginny again, tears streaming down his face as the loss of the last Marauder hit him harder than ever.

Suddenly, Minerva McGonagall took hold of her cane, leaning on it heavily, then pushing both of her feet deep in the earth underneath and heaving herself upright, momentarily wavering. Hermione followed, taking the older woman's hand, letting her lean on her, as she slowly but surely made her way to where Harry had stood to speak to everyone. All eyes followed her, watching how heavily she was leaning on Hermione, accepting the rare support. Once she had made it, she carefully pushed Hermione away, indicating she could take it alone from there. Hermione, however, remained close… just in case. Minerva uneasily handed her her cane and held onto the speecher's support instead.

"Hello, everyone," Minerva began. "I won't make this much longer than needed, but there are several things I would like to say today. I only just escaped from St. Mungo's, so please bear with me." At that, the audience nervously laughed, before she resumed. "I have lived through three Wizarding Wars. This last war was by far the worst on me. I'm not entirely sure if the lack of Albus in battle could have caused that, but it is something that I sometimes would like to believe. We have all lost loved ones through these wars, but never have our survivors been few like this. We have paid to win this war with the lives of good, innocent people. Two of these are Remus and Nymphadora, both very well trained as Order members. Yet it wasn't enough. Few Order members remain after this war. Less than in the war with Grindlewald, and less than when Tom Riddle first seized his chance to terrorize the English Wizarding community.

"Please, never forget about the ones whom we lost. Please, never forget how many wonderful companions we all have lost. Don't forget about how wonderful they were, even now death has overtaken them. Don't forget about any one of them. Both of these people for instance were needed very much to win this battle. I'm sad that I cannot tell them how proud I am, and how proud Albus would have been. Don't forget about Remus or Nymphadora. There's one thing that we can hold onto, though. At least they can finally be together in peace now."

* * *

"All right?" Hermione questioned, aiding the elder woman across the sea of people.

Minerva nodded. It hadn't been very easy to keep herself upright during her speech for sure, but the belief that Hermione was there in case she collapsed, had nursed her through most of the things which she had wanted to say. It wasn't very like Minerva McGonagall to talk about what had come to be said in her speech, but it had been the least she could do for Remus and Nymphadora, and she felt strangely lighter.

"Hermione," Ron acknowledged, watching her pass by with Minerva leaning on her even heavier than earlier.

"Ron," she replied. Minerva politely nodded.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," she said and beat Ron's further questioning by elucidating, "I have taken residence in the house of my mom and dad for the time being again. Minerva's my guest."

Ron huffed. "You never once came by. You don't care about us anymore, it seems."

Hermione's nostrils flared. "How do you dare to suggest such thing even?" She whispered, terrifyingly. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Ronald Weasley, when you cannot even get yourself together on a funeral. I cannot believe how many more times you would like me to say it, but I'm not interested in pursuing a more romantic relationship with you."

"It surely does seem you wouldn't mind with her," Ron spat, nodding at Minerva, who was then so weak that she couldn't find the strength to give him the sort of reply she usually would have given on something like that, and which usually would have left him speechless for a while. "Is she that good, huh?" He dared.

Beads of cold sweat had formed upon Minerva's forehead as she heavily struggled with the pain shooting up and down her spine. She could use the comfort of a bed very much right now, although she never would admit it – not even to Hermione.

"You're disgusting," Hermione spat, then Apparated with the woman in question.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"I'm sorry, I haven't gotten to rearrange everything yet after… I…"

"That's alright," Minerva whispered, eyes sliding over her surroundings intuitively, trying to take in everything at once. She carefully eyed the pictures on the mantelpiece and the layer of dust that sheathed everything, as Hermione seemingly nervously guided her further in the little living room. She naturally reached down into her jeans pocket, to retrieve her wand and waved it artistically, not even muttering the spell that suddenly made their surroundings look like new: dustless and even shiny. She merely gestured toward the couch and watched nervously as Minerva passed over and sat herself down with a groan. Hermione intuitively reached for her tiny beaded bag – the one that had saved the lives of her, Harry and Ron last year – and pulled a bottle of green liquid from the depths of it, handing it over to Minerva, who immediately recognized it as one of the powerful pain relief potions she had gotten while in St. Mungo's as well.

Without questions, Minerva accepted it, uncorked it, then downed it at once. Her face almost immediately scrunched up in disgust upon swallowing the liquid. Hermione quietly accepted the bottle and cork and banished both with the aid of magic. "No orange juice?" She questioned as Minerva's jaw unclenched and then softened again.

Minerva's head shook. "No, not at all… How many of these do you have in that bag of yours?" She asked, nodding at Hermione's bag. She hadn't failed to hear the noise that said there was way more in it than it appeared to hold. She was a witch as well after all.

"Enough," Hermione replied, eying her professor still nervously. "I uhm… I'm aware that there's little room. You're used to something far larger, but I thought that it would do for the time being. At least it is better than…"

"…nothing," Minerva finished. Hermione mutely nodded and sat down on the couch opposite Minerva, looking down and away from her mentor. Another silence fell between both women then.

Hermione realized more than ever then that indeed little of Hogwarts had remained upright after battle. She then suddenly thought of something and reached for her tiny beaded bag again, searching furiously in its depths until she had found that what she was looking for. Throwing her bag aside, she carefully placed the box on her lap and pointed her wand at it to restore it to its original size. At once, a heavy large cardboard box rested on her knees. "I uhm…" she began. "There are some little things we have gotten to rescue from the ruins. I have repaired the two picture frames," she whispered, quietly handing her mentor the box with her saved belongings. Minerva merely eyed her with surprise and something else she couldn't name and let one terribly shaky hand reach for the lid, pushing it aside to look at what it contained. She nearly immediately gasped, tears welling up in her eyes upon looking at the picture in the frame on top. It held an image of her with Albus, taken at the beginning of her teaching career at Hogwarts. She slowly reached to lift it from the box and stroked over the shiny laughing face of Albus Dumbledore with her thumb. She then looked at Hermione, who nervously bit down on her bottom lip. "Professor Flitwich has handed it to me when I was at Hogwarts yesterday after visiting you. He and most of the other professors have begun gathering things from the ruins in between the funerals and other formalities. They're readying for the rebuilding."

Minerva nodded, then slowly let her eyes wander to the image again. "I uhm… I'll leave you alone for a while. Would you care for some tea, too?" Hermione politely asked, then jumped up as if burned. Minerva, however, weakly took hold of the younger woman's wrist as she passed on by in the direction of what she merely assumed the kitchen. Chocolate brown connected with tearful teal green, that held something begging for once.

"Please…" Minerva uttered, the tears behind her eyes sounding through in her voice.

Hermione mutely nodded once again, slowly sitting down on the couch next to Minerva, watching as she quietly pulled another picture frame from the depths of the box, which held an image of the initial Order of the Phoenix. Upon fixing it, Hermione had thought she had vaguely recognized it – maybe from one of the pictures Sirius had given Harry. Minerva didn't pay as much attention to that frame, but appeared more interested in what lay beneath it, namely an old and ragged picture book of Minerva's own youth. Hermione only knew for she had leafed through it driven by curiosity, although had shut it again after a few pages. She had rather felt like invading Minerva's personal business. That wasn't something she could forgive herself doing. She had taken so much time to earn the other woman's trust; She wasn't going to ruin it much like Hogwarts might have been.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Minerva quietly leaned her heavy head against the wall, letting her eyes fall shut while just listening to the waves of music that carried in her direction and reached her ears. She hadn't recognized the music, but it had something… impossibly captivating and enchanting.

She never could have guessed that Hermione might have been so able to master the keys on a piano. She herself had been taught the basics by her father, Gideon McGonagall. Gideon himself had been rather adept. Unfortunately Minerva hadn't really inherited his gift… Minerva's older sister, Altheia, however, had. Therefore maybe their father's light favoritism for his elder daughter.

Altheia had usually been more creative than her sister. Altheia had been more like their father in any way really. She had inherited Gideon's auburn hair and sky blue eyes. Minerva had been more like her mother, inheriting her wavy raven hair and shimmering teal green eyes. That, however, didn't change the fact that both daughters had gotten the intelligence and wit that was so typically McGonagall, and even though Minerva wasn't as creative, she too actually had inherited the particularly nice singing voice of her mother. She never used it, though. She might have when singing to her children. She would have loved to do that…

Minerva tightly held the rail while sinking down at the top of the stairs, listening to the music that took her back about half a century and more, making her revel in thoughts of her childhood. Both her mother and father had gotten killed in the war with Grindelwald; as had her sister together with her fiancé and their innocent unborn child. Minerva, just having finished her training as an Auror and taught how to run when necessary, had been the only one that had been able to get away.

Oh no, she hadn't forever dreamed of being a teacher. A sad smile came upon her features recalling how she had actually lived to be an Auror once. Neither had she been alone forever. Torvald and she had met during their training and gotten married in the late fifties, about one year after they met. She had found she was with child soon after, but then terror had stricken in her second month already, and she unfortunately had miscarried… Torvald had gotten killed in one of the raids leading up to the First War with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named… The panic and grief that had followed had cost her their second baby's life… After two miscarriages in a row, Minerva had never been able to have children again…

Albus had taken her in as a Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor House soon after. She had gotten appointed as Deputy Headmistress seven years later. She sometimes liked to believe that had saved her. He had taught her how to smile and even laugh again, even though there seemed to be no reason oftentimes…

Finally sensing someone close, Hermione's fingers slowly came to a halt on the keys, and she discontinued to play, turning her head in the direction of the stairs, on which Minerva sat; leaning against the wall, tears lying on her cheeks, and pooling in her teal green depths still, a sad smile upon her features. "Please continue," Minerva sounded. Her voice sounded rather constricted, the sensual Scottish lilt more audible than ever.

Hermione's head nearly imperceptibly shook, and Minerva quietly rose in response, heaving herself upright with aid of the rail on the wall and keeping to hold it as she slowly made her way down the stairs. Hermione just waited for Minerva to cross the little of distance between them and sit down by her side on the seat at the piano. Hermione carefully took one of Minerva's hands and entwined it with hers, using Minerva's finger tips to push the white and black keys – the very same as the ones that had created the melody of earlier, that had carried up the stairs and reached Minerva's ears. The melody that had urged Minerva to leave her bed and join the other downstairs. She hadn't been able to fall asleep either.

Hermione's hand stilled, and both women momentarily eyed the other, then leaned heavily against each other without words and enjoyed the comfort of another even if only for a moment… The music that had pulled them both under in the same feelings of melancholy wasn't heard anymore, but some odd force of nature connected them by it. It never really allowed them to let go of each other again either. Neither of them could have guessed that that might have been the base for so much more. So much more complicated, yet wonderful. Minerva sighed, as Hermione momentarily rubbed the back of Minerva's hand with her thumb. Something of little significance to many, but meaning so much more to them at that moment.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hermione Jean Granger sighed, throwing aside the sheets and moving to sit up in bed. She tiredly reached up, rubbing her eyes with one hand. She could barely keep her chocolate brown open, yet falling asleep appeared nearly impossible. She slowly pushed her legs over the edge of the bed and let her icy cold feet touch the floor underneath. That was something odd, too. No matter how many layers on the bed, Hermione still felt unbelievably cold. She shuddered, feeling the momentary nightly wind cross through her room from the window as she got to her feet. She intuitively wrapped her arms around herself, feeling her reaction to it. Maybe some hot milk would help in lulling her asleep. So, she quietly made her way over to the door that would lead her into the hallway with the stairs again.

She momentarily halted at the door of Minerva's room. Upon hearing nothing at all, she cautiously pushed the door further ajar to peek her way in. Minerva was facing the window, het back against the door. No sound could be heard, which gave Hermione's thought more strength: she must have fallen asleep. Hermione sighed, wishing she could have as well. She turned and quietly pulled the door nearly closed again. A cup of hot milk should do, no? Little did she know that Minerva McGonagall's teal green eyes actually were wide open. A hollow, inaudible sob escaped the elder woman's lips upon hearing the door fall shut again. A tear slipped down her eyelashes as the feeling of loneliness overcame her once more.

Hermione could have sworn she had heard something right then. She quietly shook her head, though. Likely nothing. However, on the other side of the door, Minerva could no longer contain her tears. She absolutely hated crying, but the feeling of loneliness that had settled deep into her heart, had never been so intense, and it spread through whole of her body, even to constricting her throat. She could do nothing but give in to the tears prickling in her eyes. Never had she felt so alone. And even the most fierce Gryffindor sometimes needs someone else to lean onto…

Minerva's foundations, however, had been ripped from underneath her feet not once, not twice, but up to three times. She had tried hard and succeeded in finding a new home with Torvald after the War with Grindelwald, who had taken away her family. With the death of Albus Dumbledore her very last foundation after her family and Torvald both had been taken away from her, had broken. She had somehow continued going, bearing in mind that what Albus had asked… 'Please, Minerva. Never let anyone get to Hogwarts.'

Tears rapidly cascaded down her cheeks into the pillows, recalling Albus' heartfelt request. She certainly had eyed him awkwardly at that, but Albus had easily passed her worries of what may have lead him to that question off as nothing, and like usual she had believed him without much more. Maybe just because that felt better, than allowing her mind to ponder further and come to see why; that that might have been Albus' goodbye to her in a way… She had never really replied, which she now awfully regretted… Had he known his Deputy Headmistress even just a little, he already would have known without having to hear the confirmation that she would do her best to lead Hogwarts well, like him… She momentarily shut her eyes. She sometimes asked herself the question still, if actually he knew; like Albus usually knew everything.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was now just a huge, bloody mess, though. It had nearly nothing of its unbeatable magnificence left, and thus it certainly would be a while until it had established itself in its full glory.

No, it hadn't been nothing, Hermione realized. She carefully pushed the door open further again and could now see the shoulders of her former Transfiguration Professor visibly shaking. She slowly walked over to the bed and sat.

Minerva, who had failed to register Hermione coming in, lightly shook upon feeling the mattress sink in beside her under Hermione's weight. She hopelessly tried to cover up her crying, but the warm hand coming to rest upon her shoulder didn't help anything, and she barely was aware of herself sinking into the warmth and comfort of the other's embrace. She held onto the flimsy soft blue material of the much younger Gryffindor's nightgown for dear life almost, only tightening her hold even more as Hermione carefully shifted her position, to lie beside her in the bed. "Don't… Don't leave…" Minerva managed, with a rather unusual edge of despair to her voice, stained with a thick Scottish brogue.

"I won't," Hermione whispered, tears welling up in her eyes as well upon perceiving the other woman's vulnerable state. She never had seen this side of Minerva, and part of her never wanted to see it again either… She had always been so strong, so Gryffindor… It heavily pained her to see her former Transfiguration Professor like this. "I won't," she repeated, letting Minerva's heavy head rest upon her bosom. She quietly pulled the sheet up to cover them both, and Hermione softly began humming to the lyrics in her head, to one of the songs her mother used to sing when she couldn't fall asleep when she was only little. And the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace was finally enough to let them succumb to sleep, even if only for a few hours.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hermione's eyes quietly fluttered open. It certainly took her a while to register where she was. Why had she ended up in the guestroom? Why had she ended up in bed together with Minerva? The harder she tried to recall anything, the more appeared to slip away. Hermione cautiously tried to sit up, but soon noticed she couldn't; Minerva was partially lying atop of her, Hermione's arm tightly in between the older woman's body and the mattress. She hopelessly tried to wriggle her fingers, but immediately found she couldn't. She must have been in this position since last night…

Hermione's eyes fell upon the elder professor halfway next to, halfway atop of her. Some wisps of wavy ebony had come loose from her usual tight bun to frame her still beautiful face. So close, one could easily see that once upon a time Minerva Gaia McGonagall had been nothing less but stunning, now aged through the years and maybe even more particularly through having to be tough enough to survive three Wizarding Wars. Hermione sighed, pondering if she too had changed so much through last year. She surely had become more adult, but she hadn't had much other choice, had she?

The sigh that left the younger witch's lips must have been deeper than anticipated, because Minerva nearly immediately woke up feeling the breeze of pseudo warm air cross her face. Minerva's eyes fluttered open quite tiredly, too. "Good morning," she whispered, not sounding very convinced, for no rays of sunshine, nor moonbeams for that matter, filtered in through the window to indicate day or night. Everything just appeared dark. The war might have been over finally and won, and therefore maybe there should have been light, but Minerva's heart still felt heavy; unnaturally, inexplicably heavy. It would take a while until the darkness would leave her heart, too.

"I have no idea whether we should actually call this morning already," Hermione admitted, then sighed, as if sensing her former professor's thoughts and feelings. Hermione cautiously moved to free her arm, and Minerva helpfully raised herself a bit upon realizing the younger Gryffindor's intention.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"That's okay," Hermione said, then, however, winced upon flexing her arm after having had it in the very same position most of the night. She slowly moved over toward the edge of the bed, when suddenly Minerva weakly caught her wrist. Hermione intuitively turned to look at her, searching for a reason triggering that action in her eyes. "What's the matter?" Hermione questioned, quietly turning her hand to hold Minerva's and momentarily squeezing. She couldn't recognize the emotions that had filled Minerva's teal green eyes, which had turned vague like a cloud had moved over them, obscuring the view not necessarily for Minerva herself, but anyone else trying to get through to her…

"I need…" Minerva began, then hung her head, ashamed for that what she needed. Ashamed to be weak; to need… Ashamed that she couldn't voice anything of it. She failed to keep the sob of near despair that followed inside. Hermione's hand tightened.

"What do you need?" Hermione asked, reaching to lift the elder woman's eyes to meet hers, one hand under her chin.

"To feel," Minerva admitted, one tear slipping down from her eyelashes and rapidly running down her cheek. Teal green connected with chocolate brown, and both of them swallowed. Minerva, however, was the one leaning in to let her lips touch hers. Nothing more but a touch of lips happened, and then she already pulled back, rather shocked with herself. Had she really done this? With Hermione, a pupil that had been under her care not even two years earlier? However, she couldn't deny the fact that at that particular moment Minerva had actually felt again, for the very first time in what had been years. Something deep within her somehow… sang, like a piano and its maestro that found each other after years of having been lost to one another; and the maestro was the only one living who actually knew how to tap the black and white rectangular keys to make the most beautiful and colorful melodies come forth from it. She intuitively retracted her hand from Hermione's.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she rapidly moved to leave the bed herself this time, but Hermione was faster, taking a hold of Minerva's nightgown just in time. Minerva remained sitting on the edge of the bed, as Hermione quietly came to sit on her knees behind her, leaning against Minerva. She swallowed, tenderly running her fingers up and down Minerva's bare arms. She could feel the older woman shudder at the touch, gooseflesh covering the skin underneath the pads of her ten fingertips. "I could do to feel again as well," Hermione whispered, voice sounding strangely hoarse. Minerva quietly turned her head to look at the girl from over her shoulder, and Hermione immediately took advantage of that action by leaning in further to let their lips touch again, this time, however, not caring when it turned into more; something intense. As the need for air broke both witches apart then, Hermione whispered, "Please let everything only be about feeling right now then…"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Hey…" Minerva whispered, intuitively turning toward the door between the kitchen and living room upon sensing someone watching her, with her exceptional Animagus traits. "I hope that uhm… you don't mind me…" Hermione's head shook, as she slowly walked further into the kitchen. "I have found some tea bags in the uhm… Would you care for a cup as well?" She swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous and uncharacteristically insecure. Upon perceiving Hermione's nod, Minerva rapidly turned to retrieve another tea bag from the cupboard above her head, however, in her hurry knocking over the flowery porcelain cup which she had already discovered while running through the cabinets in search for tea bags or something else suitable enough to make tea with with her elbow. Minerva shrieked, turning again to look at the pieces of porcelain all over the beige-ish kitchen tiles, then at Hermione. Hermione easily waved her wand, and nearly at once the pieces of broken flowery porcelain rose up into the air and puzzled themselves together again. When whole, a light blue light came forth from the repaired porcelain cup, only to be caught by Hermione's left hand. "You were always rather good at repairing stuff," Minerva whispered, weakly.

Hermione momentarily nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "Please, let me," she continued. "You're the guest. You shouldn't be doing this." She politely lead Minerva toward a chair and continued making tea herself, in silence. Minerva didn't say anything either. Minutes passed by in which she barely registered the sounds of water boiling, cups touching the marble kitchen counter nor the cupboard falling shut again as Hermione easily retrieved another cup. Minerva quietly let her teal green eyes fall shut as well, only opening them when Hermione cautiously set a cup of steaming tea before her. Somehow the smell of Hermione Jean Granger overpowered the one of the sweet herbal tea.

"Minerva? Are you quite alright?" Hermione asked.

"Aye," Minerva replied. "I'm fine; no need to worry." She sighed, turning her gaze toward Hermione finally. She lazily began circling the edge of the cup with a forefinger, and turned her head downward again. Quite suddenly, she rose from her seat, not having touched her tea anymore.

"Where are you going?" Hermione immediately asked.

Minerva then came to a halt. She swallowed. "I'm going to get dressed, and then Apparate to Hogwarts."

"Minerva!" Hermione exclaimed, upon hearing just that. She never would have anticipated any other from Minerva, but… wasn't it way too early after everything… after she had gotten released from St. Mungo's? She stood, too. "You can't! You are supposed to rest! You are still too…"

"Weak?" Minerva finished bitterly, turning toward Hermione. Her usual teal green eyes appeared icy blue. "I'm sure that the nurses at St. Mungo's would have wanted me resting in bed for at least another couple of days, but if we would like to have Hogwarts rebuilt by September, we better do a bit more effort. I'm the Headmistress – it is my duty." She only continued with more annoyance, not knowing where it was all coming from, when Hermione's mouth opened. "I'm old enough to know when I'm reaching my limit. I'll make sure to take care of myself. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Hermione didn't doubt that Minerva knew well enough where her boundaries lay. However, she did doubt that Minerva would let anything as ridiculously insignificant stop her, or even slow down, for she like most Gryffindors maybe, wasn't only brave and strong, but so very stubborn... like Hermione herself was… "Fine," she said, sounding just as cold. "Then I'm going with."

"I'm old enough to go alone, in case you hadn't noticed yet! I'm at least half a century your senior, Miss Granger!" She exclaimed. "I should be able to Apparate and–"

"That doesn't mean anything!" Hermione exclaimed, interrupting her, a feeling of intense pain overtaking her upon hearing Minerva again use her name like that,and not just her first name like the last few weeks; like last night… Tears welled up into her eyes. "Age doesn't have anything to do with it! Bravery or strength doesn't have anything to do with it!" Flashes of what had happened between them very early that morning rushed through her thoughts, and she rapidly blinked her tears away again. She had actually seen a side of Minerva not many had, or would; a much more emotional and far more vulnerable one. In just a couple of hours, that side of Minerva was no longer to be seen. Had their tumble in the sheets of that morning anything to do with it? Had that been what Minerva needed to fake again; to put up that famous emotionless façade? Hermione didn't doubt that that side of Minerva that had been there in these last few weeks must have been the real Minerva. "Are you really so emotionless as you furiously act to be? I don't believe so, and why would you hide the fantastic woman I have seen these last few weeks? Where's that intelligent, passionate woman of this morning?" she cried.

At that, Minerva broke, noticing the tears in Hermione's eyes. Both women suddenly fell in each other's arms. "I'm sorry…" Minerva whispered, then buried her head in Hermione's shoulder.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

A wheeze came forth from Minerva Gaia McGonagall's mouth, as she intuitively reached up with one shaky hand over her mouth to keep herself from gasping aloud. She had to lean against the wall for support, tears immediately filling up her teal green eyes upon the sight of what once used to be her personal chambers at Hogwarts. All had been pulled to shreds; destroyed. She could feel the familiarity of Hermione's warm hand upon her shoulder and immediately turned rigid. However, she couldn't fight against the motion as Hermione cautiously turned her and guided her further into her shoulder to cry. "Shh…" Hermione whispered, tenderly rubbing the taller woman's upper back. "We'll fix it all together." Minerva weakly nodded in the younger woman's shoulder. Her hard-won control was shattered with the younger Gryffindor.

* * *

Minerva sighed, reaching for the cup of tea Hermione was offering. If the younger Gryffindor hadn't pulled her to her feet and nearly dragged her down to the kitchens for a while, she would have continued without more, even though her side was pulling quite painfully, and she actually was beginning to feel rather dizzy.

"More biscuits?" A House Elf, named Emmy, politely offered, as Hermione quietly took two off the plate that had arrived together with the tea.

"Not for me, no," Hermione said, nodding toward Minerva slightly.

"Professors?" Emmy questioned. Minerva, however, didn't really react on that and just continued gazing ahead while blowing on the too hot liquid. "Professors?" Emmy repeated, this time getting Minerva's attention. "Would you like some more biscuits?"

"Oh," Minerva whispered, looking wearily.

"I assure you that it is no effort."

"Oh, no," Minerva eventually said. "I'm good."

Emmy politely nodded, and with a crack she then disappeared once again, very likely to the back of the kitchens with the other House Elves working at Hogwarts. By the time Hermione put down her cup of hot tea after having taken one sip, Minerva had already returned to gazing ahead of her at nothing in particular. Hermione sighed and whispered the elder woman's name. This time, Minerva, however, looked up immediately. Hermione momentarily wondered if the change in the one calling for her could have something to do with it. "I'm sorry for this morning," Hermione apologized.

Minerva sighed as well, putting down her cup without even having taken a sip. "Me, too," she replied, and just when she wanted to reach over for Hermione's hand lying on her knee with her own, a rather familiar squeaky voice cut through the air.

"Minerva! Miss Granger!"

At that, both women intuitively turned toward the door to see Filius Flitwick in the doorway with a smile on his face, beaming up at the appearance of them both. He eagerly walked over to sit himself down between them on a chair he had just easily conjured from thin air. "I didn't know that you would be coming today," he continued in his usual squeaky tone. "Miss Granger hasn't said anything about it yesterday or such. Nothing that could indicate you–" "I only made the decision to come with this morning, so that wouldn't be so odd."

"I thought that Miss Granger mentioned something about resting for another–" "I'm feeling much better than I used to," she said. "I have had enough rest for– No, don't worry," she said, seeing her colleague's mouth open at that. "I'll be taking it easy. If not, others surely shall remind me." Teal green eyes connected with brown ones just then and remained that way until Minerva continued, turning to Professor Flitwick again, "Hermione and I have taken the effort to repair most of my rooms and office already. I'm hoping to continue with the old Transfiguration classroom when I'm finished with my tea. Some things are not repairable and thus will have to be replaced, but I suppose that we better try to repair as much as what's possible now, and then make a list of what's missing and see for replacing it all then."

Filius Flitwick eagerly nodded. "I agree that that would be easier. I have been pondering about it as well. Pomona and I are busy in the dungeons, but we're not getting that far with it. Every little bottle of potion has been shattered during the battle, and…"

"Of course," Minerva whispered. "I just… wanted to see the…"

Filius nodded. "Certainly. Well, Rolanda and the others are busy repairing other wings of the building. Either way, I better go gather some biscuits and tea. Pomona will be wondering about where I am." He then slid off the chair and bowed, then disappeared to the back of the kitchens to go get a tray with some biscuits and tea.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Minerva momentarily wavered, as Hermione quietly pushed the door shut after both of them. She hadn't failed noticing. "Are you all right?" Hermione questioned, reaching to put a hand upon Minerva's arm, but she immediately pulled away at seeing the motion, not even giving the witch a chance to touch her. She then inhaled deeply, internally wishing that the dizziness would go away with it, and everything would focus again. Her own unsurpassable pertinacity to uphold that image of the unyielding Gryffindor Head of House was what made her keep going and not lean heavily against a wall nearby as pain overtook every motion she made. A comparison between her and the famous Iron Lady, Margaret Thatcher, who had been born in the very same year, wouldn't have come off as silly, or unacceptable, at all. There were certain likelinesses between the witch and the former Muggle Prime Minister that were not so difficult to perceive if you merely allowed yourself to see them. Either both women could have been marvelous companions… or enemies, since their shared obstinacy not to surrender and to keep defending their respective opinions.

"I'm fine," Minerva said, very Professor McGonagall-like. "I'm going to shower. There goes nothing above feeling the water rinse away all of the dirt after having been surrounded by it all day," she continued, already walking in the direction of the staircase that would lead her up to the bathroom. Hermione didn't say anything and merely watched her go, seemingly un-foreseeing of how obvious her hip pulled after having worked the better piece of the day on repairing nearly one whole wing all by herself. She sighed, sinking down on the couch, weakly hearing the sound of water running upstairs within another few minutes.

"I don't know what to do with you," Hermione whispered, more to herself than anything or anyone else. Why did it have to be that difficult? Over the years Hermione had learned to admire Minerva, wanting to be more like her. Ever since the battle, Hermione had learned to love that woman hidden within all these seemingly impenetrable, impossibly high walls that she herself had erupted, to keep her soul safe. Anyone who had once wormed their way into Minerva's heart had collapsed either in this battle or another, leaving her only with the pain of having to gather herself, needing to continue without them, but with another scar in her battered soul that would never vanish or even fade.

The need to feel alive had lead both women into finding each other's comfort… and the way to the other's aching heart. Sometimes it really shouldn't be that easy to love. It really shouldn't. It sometimes made you end up in an impossibly difficult situation in which no matter what route you chose, would hurt. What would hurt more in this particular situation: watching Minerva build up her famous, emotionless façade, that didn't allow to accept aid of anyone in anything, while conscious of the fact what fantastic, passionate woman was hiding within, and how shattered she really was… or giving in to the need to be with that not so often seen woman and helping her to find herself again, while allowing her to aid in finding yourself, but risking to lose whatever existed between you already?

_Minerva came to lie atop of Hermione entirely now, eagerly allowing her fingers to discover the patches of the younger witch's skin that weren't hidden by her nightgown, as Hermione's questing ones ran all over the elder woman's thin nightgown, feeling every little curve that was underneath nevertheless – needing it to be that way. Their hot, wet mouths eagerly connected in a series of needy, passionate kisses… until suddenly Minerva became motionless atop of Hermione, panting hard. "I… We can't do this, no matter…"_

_"We can," Hermione assured, leaning up for more again. _

_"No…" Minerva whispered, rolling off Hermione again and immediately getting to her feet. Hermione barely had time to register it and was surprised to say anything by Minerva's suddenly… odd behavior. "I cannot take advantage of you this way. I'm so sorry," she choked, audibly holding in her tears. _

_"You're not…" Hermione began. "I agreed," she rephrased, to make it easy, just when the door to the guestroom fell shut after Minerva again. _

Hermione quietly shook her head, rising to her feet. This wasn't only about her, nor about Minerva, but about the both of them.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall could be described as the type of woman enjoying to shower because it allowed not to dwell on anything but the water running down over your body and massaging your sore muscles after an emotionally and physically challenging time. Heavily enjoying that feeling, she failed to hear the door to the bathroom. If it hadn't been for that wave of cool air that momentarily touched her skin, she would have failed to hear the door of the shower shutting after Hermione as well, as the much younger witch joined her under the jet of hot water.

The elder woman nearly immediately became rigid, painfully conscious of the fact Hermione had very likely never seen anyone of her age naked until then and could easily be disgusted by it. However, if Hermione was disgusted, she certainly hid it well, letting her hand easily find its way to Minerva's hip and slide up her side to her bosom, cupping it, as Hermione's other hand moved to lay upon Minerva's other side. She quietly kissed Minerva's shoulder, whispering, "I love you."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Minerva quietly sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing a towel in her grey streaked ebony hair. She smiled, taking in Hermione's nudeness, as the much younger witch carelessly rummaged into the drawer of her wardrobe in search for the pair of panties that would fit with the bra she had already located into the depths of the drawer. Hermione Jean Granger appeared to have the sort of easiness with her nudity that was typically only possessed by the young. It did her good to know Hermione felt comfortable enough to walk about naked while conscious of Minerva's eyes following her every move. "Do you usually wear sets?" Minerva inquired, finishing rubbing the towel in her hair.

"A-ha!" Hermione exclaimed, reaching for the velvet looking violet panties. A smile of satisfaction had come over her features when she quietly turned to face Minerva. "I usually do, yeah," she said, getting into her panties and then pulling on her bra. "I somehow cannot bear the thought of wearing a bra and panties not matching. Don't you…?" She asked.

Minerva shrugged. "I usually do, but the type of underwear I wear is something that could never be called lingerie or anything."

Hermione quietly sat by the elder woman's side on the bed, pulling one hand atop of Minerva's. "You're beautiful," she whispered.

"I'm old."

Hermione quietly shook her head and leaned in to let their mouths connect again. Hermione carefully straddled her thighs, holding onto the collar of Minerva's robe as their kiss turned needier… until Minerva pulled away. "I should comb my hair first, or it'll get unbelievably tangled."

"Oh, let me," Hermione suggested, moving off the older woman's lap to sit beside her on the bed again. She easily summoned the comb that lay on the wardrobe – the one which she had used earlier – with some wandless magic, and encouraged Minerva to turn somewhat so that she could comb easier through the lengthy ebony waves of hair. The softness surprised her a bit. "You should leave it loose more often," Hermione whispered.

"Maybe," Minerva replied, "I usually pull it into a knot so that it doesn't end up in the way and doesn't get tangled."

Both remained in silence until Hermione was satisfied with the result, and laid the comb on the night table. Minerva quietly turned her head to look gratefully over her shoulder at the much younger witch. However, at that something snapped in the elder woman's neck, and she intuitively reached to rub the sore muscles with one hand. "Ouch," she winced.

"You should have been more careful, if you should have gone at all."

"I know," Minerva managed, then hissed upon feeling Hermione carefully beginning to massage her neck.

"All right. Promise me to take it somewhat easier for at least another couple of days."

"I…" Minerva gasped, "promise."

"I know that you feel like you are entirely responsible over Hogwarts now, and surely I won't counter that, but you don't have to do it alone. No one would feel better if you overstretched and got more ill again. Please allow yourself to rest just a little bit before jumping into it again. Working's not the solution. I'm here for you. We'll get there together. We'll get through this." Hermione discontinued massaging. "Turn over," she whispered. At once, Minerva quietly turned to lie face down on the bed, when Hermione interrupted again, "You'll have to get rid of that robe first." She chuckled, watching Minerva's green eyes roll and watching how she quietly undid the tie keeping her robe together and shrugged the material off her shoulders. She felt rather uncomfortable with her own nudity when turning to lie face down on the bed once more. Minerva winced a couple of times while the motion lasted. A shiver ran across her spine as she settled, holding onto the edges of the pillow as she intuitively buried her head in it.

Hermione carefully began massaging the pain away. At first, Minerva would wince occasionally, but after a few minutes she felt more at ease than ever for the very first time in months if not years and allowed Hermione to make her feel a little better. Her intakes and exhales of air began evening as the pain slowly disappeared entirely. She had no idea about how long it must have taken. "Minerva? Have you fallen asleep?"

"No," Minerva lazily replied. "I'm awake…"

Hermione smiled, laying down on her belly right beside the elder woman. She quietly ran a thumb over Minerva's cheek. Minerva smiled, and gazed up to let her eyes meet younger, hazel ones. "I… Hermione, I love you, too," she whispered, leaning into Hermione's touch.

"I know," Hermione said, and chuckled.

"Oh. Well, fine. I'll never tell you again," Minerva teasingly replied.

"Hey!"


End file.
